


Six O'Clock

by La_Llorona



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Llorona/pseuds/La_Llorona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has until 6:00 to propose to Castiel. What could go wrong?</p>
<p>(Post Season Seven--Leviathans still among us).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six O'Clock

 

How do you propose to an angel? Dean has no fucking clue.

All he knows is he’s stuck in traffic with Castiel in the passenger seat of a car that’s definitely _not_ the Impala. It’s a silver Honda Civic, custom-made for douchebags. Dean didn’t know he could hate leviathans more than he already did until one of them destroyed his Baby. This would be the millionth time since 2005 that Dean’s had to fix her up again.

It wouldn’t be as big of a deal if he wasn’t trying to get out of this damn city, to a place that’s at least halfway decent to pop the question. He still can’t figure out how to pop the question. But, relax. Just relax.

Dean honks the horn. “C’mon, man, it’s a green light, move it.”

Cas squints at the stupid car in front of them. “Perhaps he’s color blind.”

“Then he shouldn’t be driving.”

“You should be more sensitive to the medical conditions of others.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dean mutters. Normally, he’d have a witty comeback, but he can barely even look at Cas right now. Looking only makes him more nervous.

“I could transport us to a more desirable locale,” Cas’s saying.

“What’d I tell you about ‘transporting’ me places?”

Cas looks kinda dejected. “That it doesn’t agree with your digestive tract.”

“…Close enough. Yes! He’s moving.”

Dean turns the Civic down a new lane. Traffic’s not so bad here, but buildings are still towering over them, and half-assed civilians are still trudging up and down sidewalks, and every other bench’s got a real estate agent’s face plastered on it. Dean misses the open country roads, doesn’t understand why even _a leviathan_ would want to come around here. Or why a leviathan would want to disguise as a police officer. He can’t wait ‘till they get a new gig and can high-tail it.

But right now, the important thing is high-tailing it before six o’clock. Six o’clock is the hour Dean’s had on his mind, and if he doesn’t do it at six o’clock, he knows he’s not going to be able to do it at all.

“Why didn’t Sam come with us?” Cas asks all of a sudden.

“What? He had…research.”

Dean wonders what Sammy would think if he knew what Dean’s planning on doing.

Dean wonders what Cas would think if he knew what Dean’s planning on doing.

They’re not even dating, never even had sex, never even _kissed,_ and now Dean’s handing him a ring? It seems stupider and stupider the more he thinks about it.

Six o’clock or bust.

Cas opens his big mouth. “With leviathans circling the city, we can’t waste time, Dean. I hope whatever we’re doing has significance.”

Oh, shut up already.

Dean checks the time. Five forty three already. He switches the damn GPS on, because he’s got no idea where he’s going in this stupid steel maze.

The GPS says to “Turn left on 22nd Street.”

Castiel looks around, brow creasing. “Dean. Where is that voice coming from?”

“The car, Cas, the car.” Dean hates himself for sounding so angry. He can’t help it, though. Talking to Cas makes it harder, just like looking at Cas makes it harder, no matter how much he wants to get a glance at those damn sapphire blue eyes.

Cas’s still stuck on the mysterious talking Civic. “How is the car aware of our location?”

“How should I know? Ask Sam. He’s the only one who gives a crap about all that tech stuff.”

“But Sam’s not here. He’s doing ‘research.’”

Dean has to glance at Cas now. He’s got to wonder if the angel’s on to him. But, Castiel’s face is pretty neutral. When’s it not? Dean never really knows what’s going on in that head of his, though he always wants to. He wants to know everything about Cas, let Cas know everything about him.

Six o’clock or nothing.

“Turn left on Barton Avenue.”

Dean doesn’t see any Barton Avenue around, so he turns on 24th. But damn, it’s clogged. There’s an ambulance up ahead, with cop cars surrounding it. Road’s blocked.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbles. He shoves the car door open and gets out. “Stay here.”

He slams the door before Cas can say anything.

It’s so chilly out here, Dean’s glad he’s got a leather jacket hugging his arms. He can pretty much see his breath puffing out as he skirts the endless line of cars, going over to where one of the policemen stand on the sidewalk.

“Hey! Me and my friend, we’re trying to get out of here by six—e _xactly_ six. So, what’s the quickest route?”

The policeman gets a lot of wrinkles around his mouth when he smiles. He looks real amused. “Don’t have a GPS?”

“It told me to turn left on Barton.”

“Where’s Barton?”

“Exactly.”

“I guess you’ve got yourself a problem, then.”

“Could you give me some directions?”

The policeman smiles again. There’s something off about his smile. “Sure. Got a pen?”

And then Sam’s there. Wait, was that Sam? Dean’s positive that was Sam, darting past a cluster of people on the sidewalk, running behind the ambulance.

“Sammy…?”

“What was that, sir?” the policeman’s saying.

“Nothin,’ nothin’…could you just give me a minute?”

Dean rushes over to the ambulance, no time to wait for the guy’s answer.

Sam’s taking a few steps backwards and practically collides with Dean. Sam’s spinning around.

“Whoa, you okay? You look a little on edge,” Dean tells him.

“Yeah, I am.” Sam’s breathing is heavy.

Oh, God, don’t let it be a case.

Sam’s still talking. “Turns out that the whole police force is chock-full of leviathans.”

It’s a case.

“So, when they say ‘you have the right to remain silent,’ they mean _really_ silent.”

“No time for jokes, Dean, we’ve gotta get to the station.”

Dean looks over his shoulder. He can’t even see the Civic from here, but he can imagine Cas sitting there, waiting patiently like he always does.

“Can you take care of it? Alone?”

Sam’s eyebrows knit together. “Why?”

“Come on, man, I’m asking you as a brother. I’ve never asked you for anything.”

“There was that time you asked for pie. And that other time you asked for pie.”

“Forget the pie! This is more important than that.”

“Bikini models can wait, Dean, we’ve gotta go.”

Sam’s already walking away, expecting Dean to follow, like he always does.

“It’s about a person, okay?”

Sam stops when he hears that. Dean knew he would. “Is someone hurt?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Dean feels really stupid doing this. He sighs and pulls a small box out of his jacket pocket. It’s got the ring inside, of course, and when he opens it, Sam’s eyes go wide.

“You’re…not…proposing to me, are y—“

“No! No. Damn it, Sammy, of course not. It’s for—it’s for Cas.”

“Cas?”

“Cas.”

“ _Castiel?”_

“How many Cas’s do we know?”

“You’re gay?”

Dean can feel his own mouth twitching a little. “Seriously? I tell you I’m ready to share my life with somebody, settle down for good, and _that’s_ the first thing you ask?”

“Busty Asian Beauties, Dean.”

Dean’s got to smile. “They’re still so hot.” He pictures Cas on the night they met, the fucking serious holy tax accountant who tried to convince Dean he could be saved. “…But they’re not Cas. I’ve gotta do this, Sam, and if I don’t do it before—“

“Before what?”

Dean grabs Sam’s arm, pushes up his jacket sleeve and checks the time on his brother’s watch. It’s five fifty two.

“Son of a bitch!”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go alone.”

Dean can’t believe it for a second. It just doesn’t compute.

Then Sam says, “Go do what you’ve got to do.”

Dean’s pulling Sam into a hug before he can even think about it. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. But somehow, it’s one of the most important things Sam’s ever said to him.

“Dean. Leviathans. Let go.”

He releases Sam, who’s turning away so fast, Dean hardly sees it.

“Be careful, Sammy. If things get bad, just call me.”

Sam smiles gratefully. “Good luck.”

And he’s gone.

And Dean’s got—what, ten minutes?

He darts for the sidewalk, streaking past the cars. The cold air’s biting at him now. Dean can see the Civic, though, it’s right there. He still has no idea which direction will take them out of the city, but he’ll figure it out. And if he can’t figure it out, he’ll propose inside the damn city.

Dean gets to the car and opens up the driver’s door.

It hits Dean so hard he can’t breathe. Cas’s gone.

Dean gets in the car and starts it back up, pulling out, backing up, fast as he can. He keeps one hand on the wheel, and gets his phone out with the other. It slips out of his hand. He’s swearing. He’s picking it up again, keeping his eyes on the road.

He makes a U-turn that’s probably not very legal.

The speed he’s going probably isn’t very legal either, but what the hell does he care?

Dean’s having a hard time dialing with one hand, but he manages.

“Cas?” he yells into the phone.

Some static. Then…“What is it?”

“Where the hell are you?” Dean yells at him.

Then he sees Cas right there in the rearview mirror, seated quietly in the back.

Dean swerves into a semi-decent parking space and stops the car.

They’re both completely silent for a moment…two moments…three…

“Where’d you go?” Dean says.

“That’s not relevant.”

Dean turns around to look at him. “Yeah, it is.”

It happened while he was making that turn. The clock switched from five fifty nine to six o’clock.

Dean looks at it just to make sure. Yeah. Six o’clock. There it is in bright red.

“Damn,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry, Dean. It was relevant.”

“Ya think?”

Dean can’t believe it. He can’t believe he missed it. Stupid. So, so stupid.

“I had to retrieve something,” Cas explains.

Dean doesn’t give a damn about what Cas had to retrieve. He missed it. Dean slips his hand into his jacket pocket and rubs his thumb on the small, leather case.

It falls out.

“What was that noise?” Cas asks.

Dean’s face is burning and he can hear his pulse, can feel it in every inch of his body. He leans down and touches the box. “Something I dropped.”

“The item I retrieved, Dean…”

Cas is bending forward, gripping his shoulder. Dean looks at him, and Cas is holding a box of his own.

“Sam told me of your custom, but he only told me to buy a ring. I’m…not sure what to do now.”

Dean straightens. His mind’s running on overload. Cas is doing—and Sam, that bitch, knew about—

“I…had a different one chosen at first,” Cas continues. He looks so awkward. Dean’s nerdy angel. “But I changed my mind. I found a new one, and I hope it’s sufficient.”

Cas hands him the box.

Dean takes it, slowly. His mind was just running on overload and now it’s not running at all.

“Is there supposed to be a question in here, Cas?”

“I’m not sure.”

Dean’s got to chuckle. “Well if there is…” He bends down, picks up the box he got for Cas and tosses it to him. “The answer’s yes.”

Cas examines the box as if he’s never seen anything like it before.

“What’s your answer?” Dean says.

Castiel doesn’t smile much. Hardly ever. But he’s smiling, just a bit, right now. It doesn’t even matter that they’re in the douched up Civic.

“My answer’s yes, Dean Winchester.”


End file.
